Page 179 of Knot my First Rodeo

Peter starts struggling for real, then. Unfortunately for him, he's about fifty pounds lighter than both of us, and considerably dumber.

The tool shed sits fifty yards from the house. Peter starts threatening again when he realizes where we're taking him. The gravel crunches under his boots, and he stumbles, but we don't slow down. I just yank him forward, letting his knees scrape the ground. The shed door is already open. Inside, it smells like oil, dust, and old hay. I see a chair Autumn dragged out to sit in to watch Tripp fix the lawnmower.

"Sit your ass down," Tripp says.

Peter laughs. "Or what? You'll kill me? Go ahead. Autumn will never forgive you."

I shove him backward to make him sit. A minute later, his wrists are tied behind the chair, then his ankles, and another loop around his chest for good measure. The hemp bites into his shirt and I take my time, making sure each loop is snug, making sure he knows he isn't going anywhere.

A bead of sweat rolls down his temple. His split lip is still leaking blood, and a purple bruise is blooming along his jawline.

"You're making a mistake," he says.

I lean down until my face is inches from his. I can smell the blood on his breath.

"No," I say, quiet enough that only he can hear. "You made a mistake the second you touched what’s ours."

I straighten and step back. "Stay loud, Peter. I'd love an excuse to come back in here."

Peter shifts in the chair, and I think he might be finally realizing he fucked up. He came to Montana looking for trouble, and he found three alphas willing to give it to him.

Chapter

Fifty-Two

Autumn

The second the shed door slams shut behind Briggs and Tripp, the adrenaline starts leaking out of me. One minute, I'm running for my life, the next, I'm standing in the middle of the living room, trying to remember how breathing works while Clint keeps hovering close enough to catch me if my knees decide to stop cooperating.

Briggs comes through the back door, wiping blood from his knuckles with an old rag. His jaw is tight enough I can see the muscle jumping from across the room. Tripp follows behind him, looking entirely too pleased with himself, for a man who just helped kidnap somebody.

"Now we really need to call Hunter," Briggs says as he tosses the rag onto the counter. "I wanna know how the hell a prospect that's supposed to be in Virginia ended up in Montana, and why nobody noticed he was missing."

The thought of talking to my brother right now makes my eye twitch.

"I'm calling Gidge."

I drop onto the couch and pull my phone from my pocket. The first call rings until voicemail picks up. I hang up and immediately hit her contact again. If she's breathing, she's answering.